


All I Want for Christmas is You

by heros_wings



Category: GOT7
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Ice Skating, M/M, Merry Christmas, Mistletoe, Rating for Language, Snow, so much rum and eggnog that is mostly really just rum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heros_wings/pseuds/heros_wings
Summary: A collection of Christmas and winter-themed one-shots and drabbles based off prompts scattered throughout the internet. Features every GOT7 ship.





	1. Jaebum/Jinyoung

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/igot7skies)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We both wanted the book on sale but it was the last one. What do we do?”  
> Pairing: JJP

As a rule, Jinyoung didn't particularly _like_ Christmas. For one. Seoul was cold and miserable at the end of December. Then there were the crowded shopping centers, gratingly cheerful music, and the _why don't you have that special someone_ comments from that one relative that just _had_ to remind him he was single while everyone else was walking around with their matching scarves or sweaters. 

Yeah.

Jinyoung wasn't a _Grinch_ but he wouldn't be caught wearing ugly sweaters or buying eggnog any time soon.

He did, however, very much believe in the time-honored tradition of buying gifts. More importantly, gifts for himself.

And what a gift it was. Sitting right there on the shelf in front of him.

He couldn't believe his luck. He had been looking for this _exact edition_ of this _exact book_ for _months_ and here it was. In a little secondhand bookstore that doubled as a cafe an hour train ride outside of Seoul. On _sale._

Clearly, father Christmas knew he was _meant_ to own this book. He reached for it, only instead of the smooth faux leather spine, his hand landed on top of another.

_No._

He looked around in horror at the person who had grabbed the book. Staring back was a guy in a bucket hat, way too many ear piercings, and narrow eyes that widened when they met Jinyoung's. And damn—Jinyoung's eyes took in the two little moles above his left eye, round cheeks, and strong jaw. He was cute too.

Jinyoung's hand slid down and latched onto the book just below the guy's hand. Cute or not. He _needed_ this book. The guy's lips twitched into an amused smile as if he knew exactly what Jinyoung was thinking.

“You like de Botton too?” he asked in a smooth, velvety voice.

He tightened his grip and smiled back. Polite and _‘I will fight you’_ at the same time.

“I do.”

The guy's smile widened. “Seems we both have good taste.”

“One book doesn't mean you have good taste,” he replied.

He tugged gently on the book but it barely budged from the other's grip.

“Oh?” he challenged, now looking amused.

Jinyoung almost made the very grave mistake of loosening his grip under the cute smile. The guy's eyes disappeared and made him look like one of those really happy cartoon cats. Stubborn, he tugged again. Still no luck.

Chuckling, the guy eyed him up and down with an appreciative gaze. “Want to decide for yourself if that's true? I hear they have good coffee here.”

Jinyoung scowled. Was he really being _hit on_ while he was trying to win a battle for a book?

 _He is cute,_ said a totally unreasonable voice in the back of his head.

 _No_.

Cute or not. Jinyoung was not giving up this book to a dude who thought _bucket hats_ were acceptable fashion choices.

“I'll let you have the book—”

Jinyoung pulled with force just as the guy let go. He fell back and they had one of _those_ moments. The kind that literally only happened in movies but now apparently also to him.

The guy caught him around the waist. His arms firm and strong around Jinyoung, their faces so close Jinyoung could see the stubble on his chin that showed he hadn't shaved that morning…

Swallowing, he scrambled out of the guy’s arms and straightened himself, clutching the book possessively. He looked suspiciously at the guy who was grinning again. Was he just amused at _everything?_

“So? You buy me coffee and I let you keep the book.”

Jinyoung snorted. He already _had_ the book and this guy would have to pry it out of his cold dead hands if he wanted it.

 _“You_ can buy me coffee,” he retorted, brushing by him. “While I go buy _my_ book.”

Chuckling, the guy followed him to the front of the shop where the cafe and cashier were located.

“Deal,” he said. “I'm Jaebum, by the way.”

Jinyoung looked at him, eyes doing a once-over similar to how Jaebum had looked at him earlier. He _was_ very cute.

“Jinyoung,” he replied, taking his spot behind an elderly woman at the cashier. “I like Americanos.”

Jaebum's grin widened. “Sure thing, Jinyoung.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the way Jaebum said his name. Watching him retreat, Jinyoung couldn't help but grin. New book and free coffee from a hot book nerd.

“Merry Christmas to me.”


	2. Mark/Jaebum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretend boyfriend for a family Christmas party.  
> Pairing: Markbum

Jaebum startled as Mark rushed over to where he was lounging in one of the plush couches in the student union. He dropped next to him, looking desperate. From the pink flush of his cheeks and the red on his nose, it was clear he had just come in from the cold.

_“Thank God_ you're still here,” he breathed.

Jaebum blinked at his best friend. “Something wrong?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend this weekend,” the words left his mouth in a rush and without preamble.

Jaebum’s throat closed up as he stared at him in disbelief. He must have been hearing things.

“What?"

Sighing, Mark repeated himself, slower this time. “Will you come home with me to a family party this weekend and pretend we're dating?”

Nope. He hadn't been hearing things and it sounded just as stupid and crazy as it had the first time. The saddest part about it was Jaebum would have given anything if Mark had just left out the _pretend_ part and asked him to simply be his date.

“Are you drunk?”

Mark let out a long, high-pitched whine Jaebum definitely wouldn't admit had his heart leaping into his throat.

_“Please_ Jaebum,” he grabbed Jaebum's hands and looked up at him with a painfully adorable and pitiful expression. “Jinyoung is going home and Jackson is going with him, you're my only hope to keep everyone from asking me _when I'm going to find a nice young man or woman,”_ his voice raised in pitch as he imitated who Jaebum could only assume was an aunt or his mother.

Jaebum smiled. “So I'm your only choice,” he deadpanned with less humor than he had intended.

Mark straightened and sat back with an expression caught between surprise and confusion. “I— no...I haven't asked anyone else…”

Somehow that still didn't make Jaebum feel much better. He and Mark had known each other since their Freshman year. Now in their Senior, Jaebum was finding it harder and harder to be the best friend as he watched Mark go on dates and stumble out of his room in their apartment looked sated and well-fucked while one of his “dates” slept, if they hadn't left sometime in the middle of the night.

He swallowed. This was a stupid idea.

“Fine.”

But the blinding smile and armful of Mark he received in return as Mark launched himself at him in a joyous hug was worth it. He breathed in the vanilla scent of his shampoo and fought the urge to clutch tighter and bury his face into the crook of his neck. Reluctantly, he let go when Mark drew back, still grinning.

“Thanks,” he stood and dropped his bag on the couch. “I owe you.’

Jaebum watched him unzip his coat and unwind the thick scarf he was pretty sure belonged to Jinyoung once. He tried not to stare at the white, exposed skin of his long neck as he dropped the scarf on top of his bag and coat.

“Coffee?” he asked.

Jaebum nodded and picked up the book he had been reading before Mark showed up.

“Caramel Macchiato,” he muttered.

He glanced up, watching Mark walk to the cafe counter just across from the lounge area. It was fine, he told himself, watching Mark's lips move as he ordered. It was just one party. With Mark's family. Who he had met a few times and who seemed to like him well enough. What could possibly go wrong…

 

* * *

 

_“You're an idiot or a masochist or both,”_ Jinyoung told him the night of the party. Jaebum didn't need to see his friend to know he was frowning. The judgement was easy enough to hear through the phone.

“It's just one party,” he said dropping to his bed and laying on his back. “Besides I don't need _you_ of all people to lecture me on bad ideas when you're bringing _Jackson_ home for the entire winter vacation.”

Jinyoung snorted. _“_ I _plan on doing something about it. You, however, have spent almost four years pretending you don't want to disembowel every person Mark sleeps with—”_

“Your sympathy is _overwhelming_.”

_“You're the one who thought it was a good idea to agree to it.”_

Sighing, Jaebum stared up at the ceiling. He was already dressed—a simple pair of black jeans and silk black button-down that shimmered a deep red when he moved. He probably fucked up his hair but he was starting to care less and less as the time to leave drew closer. He had no one to impress. Not really. He wasn't _really_ Mark's boyfriend. He was just playing the part.

He sighed again. “I gotta go.”

Without giving the chance for Jinyoung to impart more of his sarcasm, he hung up. Almost as if he had been waiting on the other side of the door, Mark knocked and opened it just as Jaebum sat up. He felt the breath leave his lungs.

“Ready?”

_Fuck._

Mark’s light brown hair looked soft and parted down the middle, his bangs falling just above his eyebrows. He wore light blue jeans and a distressed cream sweater that fell to the back of his thighs but stopped just below his waist in the front. Jaebum swallowed. The sweater and jeans hugged his thin frame so every perfect angle and line of his body looked stunning and flawless…

“Jaebum?”

“Y-yeah…” he rose unsteadily to his feet, already feeling dazed as if he already indulged in some eggnog or spiked punch. _God_ he hoped there would be punch. “Let’s go.”

Mark looked him up and down with concern. “Are you sure you’re ok? You look kind of out of it.”

Jaebum smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine...I just dozed off.”

After one more concerned look, Mark reached up and flattened the hair that must have been sticking up at the back of his head. This close, Jaebum could smell the cologne—a familiar scent that made him look at Mark in shock when he stepped away again.

“Are you wearing my cologne?”

Mark grinned, and maybe it was the light or Jaebum’s imagination but the tips of his ears looked pink. “I’m out.”

“Oh...it’s uh…” he cleared his throat. _Amazing. Sexy. Perfect._ “...ok.”

He headed towards the door and away from the scent— _his_ —all over Mark.

The drive to the Tuan’s home was done mostly in silence, which wasn’t unusual. In fact, silence around Mark was _normal_. Except—Jaebum glanced at him from the corner of his eye, profile visible in the passing street lights as they zoomed down the highway—tonight had a tension Jaebum couldn’t remember being there before. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

About an hour later, they were parked on the street in front of the house Mark grew up in. Jaebum had been here once for Thanksgiving. That was before he realized he didn’t just have a crush on his best friend…

Mark shut off the engine and drew in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, looking a little more nervous than he had when they first left. Jaebum fought the urge to reach out and rest his and on his.

“Second thoughts?” he quipped, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

Mark turned and looked at him. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity. It was almost as if Mark’s mind was spinning with as many thoughts as were in Jaebum’s.

Finally he looked away and opened the door, muttering, “They’re going to be insufferable.”

Chuckling Jaebum followed. As Mark walked around the car, Jaebum held his hand out. Mark looked at it as if it was a claw instead of a hand with five, perfectly normal fingers.

“Might as well make it look real from the start,” he said, glad he could blame the cold hair for his pink cheeks.

After another moment’s hesitation, Mark took his hand. Their fingers weaved together almost too perfectly. As if they were meant to fit together just like this. Jaebum forced back the intrusive thought. He was here as a fake boyfriend so his best friend wouldn’t be pestered by his relatives. Nothing more.

They walked up to the house, Mark stiff and tense next to him. As soon as they opened the door, they were greeted with a chaotic mix of noise—Christmas carols from a stereo somewhere in the house, children screeching with laughter, adults chatting and clinking wines glasses and even the excited barks of the Tuan’s new puppy as it gambled up to them.

“UNCLE MARK’S HERE!” a little girl shouted from the end of the hallway, following after the dog. Both barreled into Mark, who had to let go of Jaebum’s hand to catch his niece and puppy, nearly toppling over in the process.

“We thought you chickened out this year,” one of Mark’s sisters appeared from the formal living room entrance next to where Mark was now kneeling in the foyer.

She turned her gaze from Mark to Jaebum, who suddenly felt very exposed.

“Mark!” She smacked her brother on the shoulder as she walked around him to stand in front of Jaebum, beaming. “You didn’t say your boyfriend was _Jaebum_.”

Jaebum shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know Mark hadn’t told them either. He looked down at his friend, who was scratching the puppy behind the ears with one hand and holding his niece around her little waist with the other. His ears had turned pink again and Jaebum was sure he hadn’t imagined it this time.

“Oops,” he muttered, completely unapologetic.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “Well, can’t say I’m surprised. We all thought you two were a thing since you brought Jaebum around that time for Thanksgiving,” she shrugged, “Suppose better late than never right?” she winked at Jaebum, who felt, if possible, even more embarrassed.

Maybe he should have told Mark to find some other idiot to be his pretend boyfriend.

“Come on,” she waved them into the house as Mark stood. His niece ran off, the puppy following close on her heels. “You’re the main event,” she joked.

_Great_ , Jaebum thought, half-glaring at Mark, who smiled back apologetically.

_Three hours_. That was how long he and Mark spent plastered to each other’s side being passed from extended family member to family friend to work acquaintances of Mark’s parents and siblings. Jaebum had lost track of the glasses of wine and eggnog placed in his hands, but he didn’t much care. In fact, he was _grateful_ for it. He wrapped his arm around Mark’s waist, made polite conversation, pretended to be “the boyfriend.”

They had even perfected their “story” the day before.

“That's so cute!” one of Mark's old high school friends swooned, looking starry-eyed at her own boyfriend, who looked about as bored as Jaebum was beginning to become.

Mark grinned and leaned into Jaebum's side. It became a routine. Tell the story—met in freshman year, became friends, moved in together, fell in love—lean into each other and grin like they were madly in love. It was only so convincing because it was true. At least for Jaebum.

The only consolation to his own misery was whenever he snuck glances at Mark, his smiles looked just as forced as his own. _Well,_ he thought, he _did_ get them into this.

“So, are you guys thinking about—you know— _the future_?” one of the many acquaintances Jaebum had already forgotten the name of, asked.

Mark and Jaebum glanced at each other, then back at the nameless woman, who grinned slyly.

“ _You know,”_ she said with a gleam in her eye people often get before they ask something like…

“Are you thinking about getting _married_ or having _kids_? I heard gay adoption is big these days.”

Jaebum frowned. She made it sound like it was a _fad_ and not a right still being fought for. He fought back the scathing retort that had risen on the tip of his tongue and instead downed the rest of his drink while Mark easily deflected with a light laugh and told her they hadn't talked about it yet.

After several more minutes of annoyingly personal questions about their “relationship” no one had any business knowing, they finally managed to break away from the small group.

Taking advantage of his arm still snugly wrapped around Mark’s waist (in part to give the impression of being much more sober than he was), he leaned forward and whispered, “When do we get to leave?”

“Soon, hopefully,” he muttered back.

_“Ooohhh!”_ someone called loudly as just as they entering the kitchen. “Someone’s under the mistletoe!”

Jaebum and Mark froze.

_No_.

He looked up slowly. To his horror, someone had hung the horrid sprig of mistletoe over the entrance between the living room and kitchen. He and Mark looked at each other. A cold, sobering chill washed over him. He had fantasized so many nights about what it would be like to have Mark’s lips on his. But not like this. Not in front of a crowd of drunk spectators waiting for them to kiss because of some contrived tradition.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the chant started from one person and slowly grew to everyone standing in the kitchen and living room.

Jaebum swallowed. Mark’s eyes were still on him, full of silent _I’m sorry’s_ and _what do we do’s._

“Fuck this,” he muttered, letting go to Mark and stumbling through the crowd.

The chant slowed and died. The silence that followed him out the front door was as stifling as the noise that had greeted them earlier that evening. He staggered into the railing of the front porch. Breathed in the cold air and watched as the condensation released into the air as he exhaled. He gripped the railing and dropped his head between his arms. The world felt like it was moving too fast. The cold air felt good against his skin, but it didn’t clear his head.

Fuck Mark and this idiotic idea.

“Jaebum?”

His shoulders tensed at the sound of Mark’s voice. He could hear the party getting back to its previous noise level (though Jaebum was sure much of the buzz he was hearing was about how he had left his “boyfriend” under the mistletoe).

“Hey—” Mark’s hand touched his shoulder and Jaebum shrugged it off.

He stepped away, not wanting to be near Mark right now. He felt embarrassment and sadness weave together into anger instead. Anger at himself, anger at Mark. Anger at whatever force made him fall in love with his best friend without giving him the courage to do anything about it…

“I’m sorry I didn’t think—”

Jaebum let out a harsh laugh and finally looked at him. _Of course_ , he thought bitterly. Mark was standing there, basked in the soft light of the house lights, making him look as beautiful as he always was.

“Didn’t think _what_ , Mark?” he asked, tone raising in volume. “That pretending to be your _boyfriend_ wouldn’t be a _stupid fucking idea?”_

Mark’s eyes widened, he looked as if Jaebum had physically struck him. “I’m sorry I thought—”

“What? That if we had to put on a _show_ and kiss in front of your entire family that I would just go along with it?”

“No-”

Jaebum sighed and tried to brush past him, intent on going back to the car or to take a walk or do _something_ that would get him off the fucking porch.

“Forget it,” he muttered.

Mark grabbed his arm. “Jaebum—”

Jaebum tried to shake him off but he held on tighter. “Are you really that mad about it?” he laughed a bit, “It was just a mistletoe—”

He wrenched his arm out of Mark’s grip and spun around, nearly toppling over a the world spun a few more times around him. Mark reached out to steady him but he smacked his hand away.

“It wasn’t for me,” he let out a frustrated noise and raked his hand through his hair before rounding on Mark again. “Do you have _any idea_ what it’s been like for me? Watching you bring dates into our house and seeing them leave in the mornings for _three years_? What it’s been like to act like you’re just my best friend when—”

He cut himself off. Mark eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

Jaebum was regretting the last...however many drinks he had.

“Nothing.”

“Jaebum—”

“I fucking _love you_!” he let out the same frustrated growl from earlier. “I fucking _love_ you and you want me to _kiss_ you in front of your family when we aren't even—”

Mark reached out and pulled him forward, cutting him off with a firm kiss. Jaebum froze.

“I'm sorry,” Mark whispered, pulling back. He clutched tightly at the front of Jaebum's shirt. “I didn’t know. I thought—”

Now it was Jaebum's turn. He surged forward, capturing Mark's lips in a sloppy, open-mouth kiss. He stumbled forward heavily, unsteady as he pressed Mark against the door and kissed him as if this was the only night he would ever get the chance.

Mark gently touched the side of his face and pulled away.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, before leaning forward for another kiss. Slow, patient, leaving Jaebum warm all over in a way more intoxicating than the alcohol still in his veins.

“Can we go home?” Jaebum finally murmured, resting his forehead against Mark's.

Smiling Mark kissed him gently again before lacing their fingers together. “Yeah.”

They still had a lot to talk about but—he squeeze Mark's hand as they walked back to the car—this was a start.


	3. Jackson/Jaebum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm a barista and you keep making weird faces when you drink the “Christmas cheer in a cup” coffee, why do you keep ordering it?”  
> Pairing: Jackbum

“He's back,” Mark muttered next to Jackson.

He looked up to see probably the only guy who somehow still looked hot with a mullet. Groaning, Jackson watched as Mark stepped up to the register to take his order, even though Jackson was sure he knew exactly what it would be...

“Uh...the...Christmas cheer in a cup…” he muttered in a quiet, low voice as if the order embarrassed him (which Jackson took personal offense to, having been the one to name their signature holiday drink that year).

As Mark rang him up, Jackson began making the drink without enthusiasm. Sure, it was _his_ own recipe, but that just made what he knew would happen once the guy took his first sip, even worse.

“One Christmas Cheer in a Cup,” he said dully, snapping the to-go top in place and sliding it across the bar.

Cute mullet guy took it and flashed Jackson a small smile. Jackson might have thought it was shy and even _cute_ if he didn't have such a goddamn grudge.

As usual, the guy took his drink to one of the leather armchairs tucked in the corner of the cafe, just within Jackson's view from where he stood behind the espresso machine. He wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose so Jackson could _see_ the way he scrunched his nose in distaste once he took his first sip, or if he just happened to really like that chair.

Either way.

Jackson glared at him as he wiped the counter in front of the espresso machine.

 _Don't do it,_ he thought, watching the guy lift the cup to this lips. _Don't you fucking—_

There is was.

The sip.

The scrunching nose and screwed up expression that was _definitely_ not the expression of someone who just enjoyed what he drank.

“Jackson—” Mark's warning fell on deaf ears.

He threw the towel down and stalked around the counter to where mullet guy sat.

“Problem?” he asked, hands on his hips.

The guy looked up, eyes widening in surprise. Jackson scowled.

“W-what?” he asked, startled.

 _Don't act like you don't know_ , he wanted to say. But no. Jackson was a professional. He was a service provider and this was a customer.

“You made a face.”

Ok, so screw customer service. Jackson was annoyed and needed answers.

The guy was frowning now. “A face?”

“Yes. A face. Why do you even _order_ it if you don’t like it?”

“Oh…” he looked at his drink.” “It's just...” he looked up “...interesting.”

Interesting.

 _Interesting_. That was just a polite way of saying it was terrible.

He fixed the guy with a tight smile. “Then let me make you something else.” _Maybe something you actually fucking like_ , he added silently.

The guy’s eyes widened. “O-oh not that’s not—” he glanced down at his drink. Jackson saw his shoulders fall like he physically deflated. “—what I meant.”

Sighing, Jackson glanced around the near-empty cafe. Thankfully it was a slow evening. There was only one other customer sitting at the opposite end. He looked back at the guy.

“Then what _do_ you mean? Because _normally_ when people like something they don’t make faces when drinking it. Better yet, when people don’t like something they don’t spend five thousand won on three cups a week.”

The guy stared at Jackson, then looked at the cup. “I’m trying to figure out what’s in it.”

Jackson stared at him incredulously.

“But I don’t really like sweet things so—”

“ _Then why order it in the first place?”_

The guy grinned a bit sheepishly. “I know it doesn’t really make sense.”

Jackson snorted. He was cute but what kind of weirdo…

“Your co-worker...the one at the register?” he glanced over Jackson’s shoulder, where Mark was probably scrolling through his phone behind the counter. “Said you made it yourself.”

Jackson beat back the swell of pride. After all, the guy didn’t even _like_ his drink. Instead, he went with indignantly defiant.

“I did.”

The guy’s smile widened and his eyes disappeared into two crescent moons.

_Cute—_

No.

He didn’t like Jackson’s drink. He was not _cute_ he was a weirdo who frequently ordered a drink he didn't even like and probably threw out once he left the cafe.

“What’s in it?”

Jackson blinked.

“Peppermint, white mocha, vanilla syrup, a dash of cinnamon, a bit of caramel drizzle—” he watched the guy’s eyes widened and start to shimmer with amusement as he continued, “and whipped cream topped with red and green sprinkles.”

The guy chuckled and took another sip. Jackson bristled when he made the same stupid face as earlier.

“Yeah…” he said, sipping the drink again. “Are you sure it’s just a dash of cinnamon?” he asked, sounding as if he was holding back another laugh.

Jackson scowled, unamused. He worked _hard_ on that drink. Sure it wasn’t for _everyone_ but they had a few customers who enjoyed the explosion of Christmas joy in a single cup. He reached for the drink.

“I’ll make you something else. Americano, maybe?” he asked scathingly.

The guy held it out of reach and took another sip. “No thank you.”

“You don’t even like it!”

The guy shrugged and took another sip. Jackson had never met anyone so infuriating. And it was worse because he was _cute_. With his stupid mullet and two eye-moles and silver earrings decorating both ears.

He wondered if he was allowed to ban customers for not showing proper appreciating for his hard work.

“Jackson!” Mark called from the register. Three new customers just walked in.

He turned to the mullet guy with a scowl and jabbed his finger at the cup. “If you so much as leave a single drop of that drink in the cup, I am banning you permanently.”

Grin widening, the guy lifted the cup in the air like a salute. Jackson kind of really hated him.

“JACKSON!”

He spun on his heel and returned to his spot behind the counter.

The guy stayed in the cafe for nearly an hour, sipping his drink (making the occasional face) and scrolling through his phone. Every so often, when Jackson would peek around the espresso machine, he would catch him grinning at the phone and wonder what he was looking at.

Finally, at long last, he stood to leave. Jackson, in the middle of fulfilling a five-party order, didn’t see him writing on the cup. He did, however, look up just in time to see him place his _trash_ right there on the counter where Jackson placed finished drinks.

The guy flashed him a grin and he scowled back.

_Ass._

He finished the drinks and snatched the empty cup from the counter. He crushed it, barely catching what was written on the side before he threw it away.

_“I finished it :)_  
_~Im Jaebum.”_  


Below was his number.

Jackson was totally just saving it into his phone so he could send him an angry text later about not appreciating his artistry.


	4. Yugyeom/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was dressed as an elf because of my job. You're drunk and think I actually know Santa.”  
> Pairing: Yugbam
> 
>  

“Wow,” a guy who looked to be about Yugyeom’s age looked him up and down with wonder. “You're _really_ tall for an elf.”

Still dressed in the costume he grudgingly wore for his part-time job as one of Santa’s elves, Yugyeom already felt ridiculous enough without some guy he never met gawking at him. And from the unsteady way his long, gangly legs seemed to be having trouble holding him up, he was drunk. Cold, tired, and longing to get the hell out of the costume, Yugyeom grimaced and tried to step around him, so he could retreat to the staff room to change.

“WAIT!” the guy lunged forward, stumbling into him so Yugyeom could now smell the very distinct scent of wine. “Don’t go! I have a question—”

Sighing, Yugyeom turned and looked down to see him grinning, still clinging to his arm. He tugged his arm out of the guy’s grasp. He was tired. He was hungry. He was ready to get drunk _himself._ Never again would he let Jinyoung talk him into something. He should have known when he bailed at the last minute with that shit-eating grin of his that told Yugyeom he had totally been tricked into ruining his holiday season for a little bit of extra cash and Jinyoung’s amusement.

Either uncaring or oblivious to Yugyeom’s annoyance, the guy smiled, wide and dopey. The kind of smile only happy drunks had. Yugyeom looked at him—the thick lips, big eyes, styled hair, and expensive clothes...

At least he was cute.

“Do you know Santa?”

Yugyeom blinked.

What.

“I mean—” the guy’s voice dropped dramatically and he leaned in like he was about to reveal a rather important secret. “—like does he really have all that hair or is it bald under the hat? I know this one _hyung—”_

“I don’t know Santa,” Yugyeom cut him off. How drunk _was_ this guy?

He turned up his big, somewhat unfocused eyes up to him. “But aren’t you an elf?” he looked Yugyeom up and down again and frowned. “You look like an elf.”

Yugyeom gently pushed him away by the shoulders and stepped back. “Yeah. Here. At the mall. As a job. A _shitty_ job but—”

The guy gasped. “Santa’s elf shouldn’t speak like that!” he glanced around the near-empty mall. “There are _children_.”

Yugyeom really wondered who thought it was a good idea to allow the restaurants in a _mall_ to serve alcohol.

Sighing, he tried again, “I’m not an elf, I’m just _dressed_ like one.”

The guy frowned and tilted his head. “So you don’t know Santa?”

“No.”

The guy squinted at him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

Yugyeom was so done.

_“Yes.”_

He tried to leave only to have the guy grab him again. Annoyed he spun around. _“What?”_

Grinning, the guy replied, “If you _do_ know Santa—”

“I don’t.”

“—tell him Bambam wants a drone for Christmas.”

Bambam. That was...an unusual name. For the first time that night Yugyeom was...mildly interested in the guy. He had heard the distinct accent but his Korean was so good, he hadn’t thought much of it until now.

“A drone,” he deadpanned.

“Yes. A top-line one preferably. I uh...lost my last one in the Han River last week,” Bambam grinned sheepishly.

Ok.

Yeah.

He was super cute.

“I’ll...tell him.”

Bambam’s eyes brightened the same way some of the children’s who came to take a picture with Santa did. He smiled so genuinely and brightly that Yugyeom almost felt a little bad.

“Really?”

Yugyeom glanced longingly at the hallway that led to the staff area. “Yeah.”

With a cheer, Bambam lunged at him and engulfed him in as big of a hug as his skinny frame could manage. “I knew you knew Santa!”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

He really, _really_ needed a drink. He looked at Bambam once he was released. Maybe enough that he _also_ started to believe in Santa and elves again….

“Look I uh—” he glanced at the staff hallway again, “Have to change but…” he looked at Bambam, who probably didn’t need another drink, but _Yugyeom_ certainly did and where was the fun in drinking alone? “Want to get some more drinks and tell me what _else_ you want for Christmas?”

Bambam’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked again.

Now Yugyeom was grinning. Bambam was growing on him. “Just er...wait here.”

He left Bambam sitting on one of the mall benches while he changed out of his elf costume and into his black skinny jeans, black sweater, and black winter coat. When he approach Bambam again, he preened a bit as his mouth dropped open slightly and he scanned Yugyeom up and down.

“You’re a lot cuter without the elf hat.”


	5. Mark/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never seen snow in person before until now, what is this white stuff falling from the sky? Why are you laughing at me?”  
> Pairing: Markbam

Bambam looked up, his mouth dropping open in wonder.

“Whoa—” he held his hand out and watched as a little white flake landed on it and melted. A wide, child-like smile spread across his lips as he looked up and let out a laugh. “ _This_ is snow?”

Mark, who had walked a few paces ahead of him before realizing he had stopped, turned and looked at him in shock. “You’ve never seen snow before?”

Tearing his gaze from the sky, Bambam looked at him. “I lived in _Thailand_.”

Laughing, Mark walked forward and ruffled his hair. Bambam smacked his hand away in annoyance.

“You’re fourteen and you’ve never seen snow,” he chuckled. “Cute.”

Bambam turned away from him, flushing a light shade of pink. “Shut up. You’re telling me _you_ get snow in LA?”

“No but…” Mark shrugged. “I went snowboarding with my family a lot.”

Bambam looked up the sky again. The snow wasn’t falling heavily. For anyone used to it, they may even say it was quite lame—just flurries. Barely enough to stick to the grass. Still, Bambam found himself entranced by it.

He looked away again and back at Mark. The snow was beginning to stick in his short black hair, making him look as if he was greying early. He giggled at the sight.

Looking amused, Mark replied, “What?”

“You’re hair,” he laughed.

Mark lifted his hand and brushed the snow from it. For all the good it would do—the snow was beginning to fall quicker and heavier. The thick flakes now starting to stick to the trees and grass in earnest.

“Come on, Bam,” Mark threw his arm around his shoulders and they started walking again. “It’s cold.”

Bambam felt himself flush again and looked up at the sky. He remembered reading that in Korea, some believed that confessing or being with someone during the first snow meant that you would be together with them for a long time. His eyes fell on Mark.

Hopefully it was true.


	6. Mark/Jinyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pulling you in by the scarf for a kiss.”  
> Pairing: Markjin

It was one of those rare days they had no schedules despite being in Japan. Snow had come to Tokyo overnight, and while the others bunkered down in their rooms, Mark and Jinyoung bundled up and headed outside.

Despite the heavy snowfall and snow-covered streets, Tokyo was as busy as it always was. Cars, buses and taxis crawled down the slushy roads, pedestrians walked with their heads ducked against the still falling snow, or else engaged in some playful mini snow fights, laughing as they ran down the road, kicking and throwing snow at their friends.

Their hotel was in a quieter area of Tokyo, where there were more homes and trees than high-rise office buildings or tourist attractions. Mark and Jinyoung strolled along a familiar route they often used for late night walks. Mark loved the snow. Everything always looked so surreal and magical when it was buried beneath the sparkling white crystals.

He watched, envious of the couples passing by, their gloved hands clasped together or tucked in a jacket pocket. He glanced at Jinyoung, who was walking with a content smile on his lips. If only…

Sighing, he looked away again as they turned down the street he knew would lead to Jinyoung’s favorite little coffee shop that doubled as a secondhand video and music shop. He and Jaebum often visited and returned to the hotel with armfuls of old Japanese movies and vinyl records, grinning from ear-to-ear like children on Christmas.

Just as the shop came into view, Mark felt a tug on his sleeve. Jinyoung flashed him a secretive smile and tugged him down another street towards a small, heavily wooded park. Another one of their favorite strolls.

Here, the path was barely touched, with only a few footprints sunk into the snow.

“Jinyoung what are you—”

Jinyoung hushed him and slipped his hand into Mark’s, still with that little smile. Acutely aware that they were in _public_ in a country they weren’t _completely_ unknown in, Mark tried to tug his hand away, but Jinyoung held on tighter.

“Jinyoung—”

Jinyoung tucked their hands into his pocket. “It’s fine,” he said. “No one is here.”

 _Yet,_ Mark wanted to argue. Instead, he sighed and let Jinyoung walk them through the snow. The park truly was deserted. The snow was beginning to soak through his boots and jeans. Shivering, he stepped closer to Jinyoung, grumbling.

They walked a bit longer, circling the park one more time, before Jinyoung finally spoke softly. “Do you ever wish we could do this without worrying if anyone would see?”

Mark sighed. “All the time,” he answered truthfully.

They slowed to a halt and Jinyoung stepped just in front of him, looking apologetic and sad. There was snow in his hair and dusted across his shoulders. Mark knew he was probably in a similar state with snow clinging to his beanie and scarf.

“I’m sorry…”

Mark looked at him with a gentle smile, full of affection and the same kind of sadness. “It’s not your fault.”

“Still…” he sighed. “I wish we could too...sometimes…”

Mark lifted his hand to Jinyoung’s hair and dusted off the snow. “What we have is better than nothing at all.”

Jinyoung looked at him, eyes widening a bit, before he dissolved into quiet giggles. “You have been spending way too much time with Jackson if you’re being that cheesy.”

Mark sulked at him. “I was being serious.”

Chuckling again, Jinyoung reached forward and curled his fingers through the thick fabric of his scarf. “I know,” he tugged gently and leaned forward. “I love you for it.”

Their kiss was light and not much more than a simple touch of lips. But it was enough to warm Mark all over. It was a small, simple pleasure that he would give everything he had and more just to hold on to forever.

“I love you too, Jinyoung-ah.”


	7. Jackson/Jinyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was cold so you gave me your jacket but now you're cold too. So I suggest we hug instead.”  
> Pairing: Jinson
> 
> (I changed up a little. Temperature is done in Celsius.)

The worst part about be “the actor” in the group was while the others could retreat to the vans or bundle up in their long winter coats as they monitored the previous takes, Jinyoung was ushered back in front of the cameras to film more scenes. And whenever the directors wanted a “main character” for their music videos, it always had to be for a winter or early spring release. And they had to be filmed outside.

He let out a harsh breath and wrapped his arms around himself. Despite the thick sweater they dressed him in and the heat packs stuck down his front and back, the cold still bit harshly at his skin. He was expected to film soon and his heavy coat was draped on a chair next to one of their managers who sat hunched against the cold, looking about as miserable as Jinyoung.

At least you've got a coat, he thought grumpily.

He paced, trying to warm himself. They were supposed to have begun filming several minutes ago but every time he glanced over at the directors, waiting for the call, they had their heads together, discussing in low voices. He turned again and ran into a solid body. Jackson was standing there, looking at him in concern.

“You really should put your coat on,” he said.

Sighing, Jinyoung rubbed his arms. “It's fine.”

Jackson scowled. “I know people get on my ass all the time about my health but at least I'm not out here in negative six degrees without a coat.”

“I'm about to film anyway,” he grumbled back.

Jackson cast an exasperated look over to where the directors were still clearly no more ready to begin than they had the last five times Jinyoung had glanced over himself. Without a word, Jackson unzipped his coat and held open the sides as he stepped forward.

“What–”

Jinyoung stepped back but Jackson was quicker. He wrapped Jinyoung up in his arms, engulfing them both in his giant puffy coat. Jinyoung struggled and whined half-heartedly, knowing it would do no good. 

“Everyone is staring now,” he mumbled, ducking his head, his cheeks burning. 

Jackson held him tighter, adjusting the coat so they could fit more comfortably together. “Let them. You're freezing and I'm keeping you warm.” He grinned. “Besides...if a camera catches us, the fans will love it.”

Jinyoung hit his shoulder before spinning around so Jackson's chest was pressed against his back. He leaned back as Jackson's arms wrapped around him, cocooning Jinyoung in his warmth. 

“Better?” Jackson's chest vibrated pleasantly against his back. 

Jinyoung hummed, glad Jackson could no longer see his red cheeks.

Maybe filming in the winter wasn't so bad after all.


	8. Jaebum/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You made me a Christmas playlist but it's just Mariah Carey's ‘All I Want for Christmas is You.’ I can't tell if you're hitting on me or if it's a joke.”  
> Pairing: 2Jae  
> College AU

Youngjae stared at the text from the cute Senior in his music composition class that he might-or-might-not-have fallen in love with at first sight. He had looked so intimidating at first—his ears decorated in silver clasps and studs, eyes sharp and focused, voice quiet and low when he spoke…

Youngjae had spent the first month of the semester sneaking glances throughout their lectures and drinking him in when he presented their first assignment to the class. He had a rich, velvety voice that felt like Youngjae could reach out and touch. It was the kind of voice he wanted to hear murmuring sweet and dirty things in his ear at night...

He smiled a bit. How wrong he was.

Jaebum was still sexy and crooned out his notes like he was making love, but Youngjae had learned he was just as quick to break into a wide smile over a cat meme or trip over a piece of uneven sidewalk. He even blushed the first time Youngjae told him he had a nice voice...

Im Jaebum was _cute_.

And Youngjae had somehow managed to find himself in the enviable position of his partner for their final project. They were supposed to compose and arrange a song together and present it to the class. The best song would be part of the Christmas concert at the end of the semester and they would also receive an automatic A in the class.

To have Jaebum as his partner felt like a small miracle. And now he was receiving a text, complete with a cute Christmas Kakao sticker that said, _‘I was making a Christmas playlist and made one for you…’_

His heart fluttering excitedly, Youngjae opened the link. The fluttering stopped abruptly. Then his heart fell disappointedly to his stomach.

There was just one song. The one they had been playfully singing along to one night as they walked through one of Seoul's many busy shopping streets, on their way to meet a mutual friend from class. He smiled at the memory, remembering the way Jaebum had unabashedly danced down the street, ignoring the snickers and stares of passerby. Youngjae watched the video he took of it at least once a day.

Still…

That didn't explain what this meant.

Did Jaebum just not understand playlists?

Was he making a joke?

Was he—Youngjae's heart leapt at impossibility— _hitting_ on him?

He took a deep breath and laughed quietly to himself.

Ridiculous. Jaebum was two years older, hot, and talented. Youngjae was an awkward 2nd year from Mokpo with a loud voice.

His phone vibrated with another text. This time, it was a voice message. He tapped on it and heard Jaebum’s voice croon through his phone speaker.

_“I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_There's just one thing I need_  
_I don't care about the presents_  
_Underneath the Christmas tree_  
_I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
_Make my wish come true_  
_All I want for Christmas is you”_

By the end of the short recording, he was grinning from ear-to-ear, thankful no one was around to see him flushed red.

_Ok_ , he thought. Maybe Jaebum _was_ hitting on him.

He stared at the chat, trying to think of a witty to reply. Finally, he simply settled with, _‘kekeke what are you doing?’_

Jaebum responded with another recorded message. This time with the second verse of the song, more upbeat and cheerful. It sounded like Jaebum was holding back a laugh as he sang.

He replied with a whiny, _‘Hyung~ what are you doing~’_

Then Jaebum did the unexpected. Youngjae stared at his phone as his name popped up on the screen. He was calling— _a video call_ of all things.

Swallowing, he answered, chuckling in spite of his nerves. “What are you—”

His words died on his lips.

Jaebum was wearing a wide, dopey grin with a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head. Without waiting for Youngjae to say anything more, he sang another verse:

_“I won't ask for much this Christmas_  
_I won't even wish for snow_  
_I'm just gonna keep on waiting_  
_Underneath the mistletoe”_

Youngjae bit his lip, holding back the laughter. He could see Jaebum’s sheepish expression as he continued singing in a cheerful tone Youngjae had only ever heard that night they danced and sang the same song down the street. He didn’t finish the song, and instead ended on a long note, looking embarrassed but pleased with himself as he watched Youngjae finally dissolved into laughter.

“You—” he laughed. “What was that?”

Jaebum smiled beautifully through the screen. _“Like it?”_

Youngjae responded with a snort. “You’re so corny.”

His smile widened _. “You liked it.”_

Blushing, Youngjae looked off screen so he wouldn’t have to see it. “That depends…” he muttered, still not believing Jaebum could possibly be interested in him.

_“Are you free on Christmas?”_ Jaebum’s voice came out hurried and suddenly nervous.

Youngjae looked back at the screen. The earlier playfulness had been replaced with uncertainty as he waited. Two years older or not—Youngjae grinned—Jaebum really was much cuter than he wanted to admit.

“Not anymore.”

He watched as Jaebum’s eyes widened in shock before his expression quickly melted back into a smile. The grinned at each other through the screen and Youngjae suddenly felt giddy. He had a date. With _Jaebum_. On _Christmas_.

“One condition,” he added.

Jaebum’s smile fell and Youngjae’s grin widened.

“Please don’t sing that song.”

Laughing, Jaebum immediately burst into the final two lines.

_“Make my wish come true_  
_Baby all I want for Christmas is you!”_  



	9. Jinyoung/Yugyeom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We both bumped into each other under some mistletoe and kissed but it turns out you're the kid from 3rd grade who would tie my shoelaces together and I still hate you for that.”  
> Pairing: Jingyeom

Head fuzzy and spinning from losing count of liquor shots and trips to the punch bowl, Yugyeom staggered through the crowded, dimly lit room, brushing and bumping against bodies he might or might not recognize if their faces would come into focus quicker than he was moving past them. He was looking for Bambam, his trusty best friend who would help him _destroy_ Mark and Jackson in some game they crossed with Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit that also happened involve a heavy amount of drinking.

He bumped into another person, this time, rather than moving on as he had been, a loud, obnoxiously cheerful voice shouted over the music and crowd noise.

“MISTLETOE!”

Yugyeom froze. It took several moments before the world stopped moving too. When it did, he looked up.

_Fuck_.

He looked back down. He squinted, trying to determine if he knew the somewhat unfocused face looking back up at him with an impassive, almost bored expression. He looked…kind of familiar, but Yugyeom couldn’t remember where they might have met. This wasn’t even his college. He and Bambam were just crashing because they knew Jackson.

He had every intention of stepping away, not wanting to get caught up in some dumbass “tradition” with someone he maybe-probably-knew. Who put a mistletoe in the middle of a room full of people anyway?

“Oh no you don’t!” Jeongguk, who was _supposed_ to be Yugyeom’s friend, put his hand on his back and shoved him forward again. “Rules are rules!”

_You kiss him then_ , he wanted to snarl out, but miraculously held his tongue in an effort not to hurt the guy’s feelings. He looked back at the still expressionless face. Yugyeom wondered vaguely if he hadn’t bumped into a robot.

“It’s fine…” the guy shrugged, his speech carefully measured as if to keep it from slurring. Yugyeom fought back the urge to snort. No matter how drunk, some people just couldn’t loosen their grip on their control.

Sighing, he stepped closer. “No...it’s—” he sighed again, suddenly nervous. The music was still blaring but the chatter around them had quieted. _Great,_ he thought, _an audience._ “Let’s just do it to shut them up.”

For the first time, he thought he saw something like amusement flash through the guy’s eyes. His lips even twitched as if he wanted to smile.

“Come on lovebirds!” someone shouted from the crowd.

Rolling his eyes, Yugyeom took a deep breath. It was fine. Given how the night was going, they probably wouldn’t even remember anything. His eyes drifted down to the guy’s lips—pink and pretty and ok...Yugyeom admitted the guy was also kind of cute so maybe this wouldn't be _so_ terrible. He stepped closer and leaned down, intent on a quick touch of lips and nothing more.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Or the easy way in which their lips seemed to fit together, but the light touch became a gentle press back and then Yugyeom brought his hand up to cup the back of the guy’s neck, in part to ground himself, but also to guide him gently closer.

A sharp whistle followed by several catcalls of “WOW GET A ROOM!” broke them apart.

They stepped away so quickly it was as if an electric shock had sprung them apart. They stared at each other, Yugyeom noticed the other’s eyes were a bit wider than they were before, as if the kiss had jarred something similar to what was stirring inside him…

Jackson’s raucous laughter broke through the growing noise. His friend appeared next to the still-somewhat-familiar guy, and threw his arm around his neck.

“Jinyoung!” he shouted gleefully, ignoring the annoyed side-eye he received in return. He grinned widely at Yugyeom. “I see you two have met.”

Yugyeom stared. Jinyoung…Jinyoung…

_Park Jinyoung_.

Oh.

Hell no.

He scowled as the distant memories came flooding back to the surface. Of a crinkle-eyed smile and sinister laughter as he glared up from where he lay on the floor of their classroom. He just _kissed_ Park Jinyoung, the kid who would tie his shoelaces together in third grade. And he _liked_ it.

He felt the sudden urge to wash his mouth with copious amounts of alcohol. Making it worse was Jinyoung _smiling_. And it was just as irritating as it was back then.

“It’s been a while Yugyeom-ah,” he said with a teasing lift in his tone.

Yugyeom scowled.

“You know each other?” Jackson looked between them, mouth dropping comically open in shock. “Small world.”

Jinyoung smirked. “We went to elementary school together.”

_And middle school_ , Yugyeom thought scathingly.

In all those years, Jinyoung had made it his _duty_ to do everything he could to aggravate him. The shoelace thing was annoying. But _most_ irritating thing was when he would buy the last container of chocolate milk and smirk as he dangled it in front of him, unopened, asking, “Sorry, Yugyeom-ah~ want to share?”

Yugyeom always replied that he would rather have a root canal.

He wiped his lips as if they were suddenly contaminated. “I am so getting several more drinks until I forget that,” he muttered, pushing past them.

He could hear Jinyoung chuckling behind him.

He entered the kitchen, took two shots of some foul tasting whiskey, then made himself an extremely strong drink, before retreating outside.

The cold winter air bit harshly at his overheated skin, but he ignored it. He needed to clear his head. Thankfully, the small backyard was empty. There were still patches of snow left over from earlier that week. He looked up at the clear sky, unsurprised but disappointed that they were still too close to the city to see any stars. The sliver of moon looked so lonely...

“You really hated me that much?” Jinyoung’s quiet voice made him look away from the sky with a scowl.

“You tied my shoelaces together until we were _thirteen!”_

A smile twitched at the corner of Jinyoung’s lips. “You did put glue in my seat.”

“We were _six_.”

Shrugging, Jinyoung came to stand next to him and stared up at the sky. Yugyeom looked at him, trying to see the bratty kid he knew. What he saw was a mop of neatly styled black hair, soft lips, and a face prettier than he remembered. Gentler. He had grown too, but so had Yugyeom. There was some satisfaction in knowing he was taller.

As if feeling his eyes on him, Jinyoung turned, his eyes locked on Yugyeom’s.

_Ah_.

There it was.

Those eye wrinkles.

Annoying when he was a child, but now, Yugyeom felt the urge to run his thumb along the lines.

A slow smirk curved to Jinyoung’s lips. “Like what you see?”

Yugyeom snorted and turned away, draining his drink and tossing it into the open bin nearby.

“No.”

Jinyoung stepped in front of him and tilted his head, looking infuriatingly inviting.

“No?” he asked teasingly.

Yugyeom swallowed. “Not even a little,”

Even to his own ears, he sounded unconvincing.

Humming Jinyoung stepped closer. “I think you’re lying."

He watched Jinyoung's lips form the words, remembering the way they felt against his, how easy and tempting it had been to kiss him deeper with everyone watching. And maybe he would have if the shouts hadn’t startled them apart.

_Fuck it_.

They were drunk anyway, right?

He reached forward, his hand finding the same spot on Jinyoung’s neck as before. This time when their lips met, it was less gentle. Sloppier, wetter. Yugyeom spun them around and pressed Jinyoung against the side of the house. Their height difference had Jinyoung arching his head up and meeting each kiss just as eagerly.

He tasted the bittersweet mix of whatever Jinyoung had been drinking. Or maybe that was just how Jinyoung tasted. He pressed closer, a small sound catching in the back of his throat as Jinyoung’s tongue slid against his.

They stayed outside, wrapped up in each other, trading little taunts and snide remarks between kisses.

_Ok_.

Maybe he could forgive Jinyoung for the shoelaces.


	10. Mark/Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You've had too much eggnog and rum and now you're drunk and doing a strip tease for everyone at this Christmas party. It isn't sexy in the slightest because you're giggling and your sweater is caught over your head but I'm still falling in love with you.”  
> Pairing: Markson

Mark couldn't even be mad if he wanted to. He stood behind the small, catcalling crowd gathered around the couch Jackson was struggling to stand on.

This was the whole reason people go to Christmas parties, he thought, watching the uncoordinated roll of Jackson's hips. He was giggling and belting out “Santa Baby” as he danced as sexy as someone too drunk to stand properly could.

Mark watched, his smile a permanent fixture on his face since Jackson first clambered onto the couch. Jackson rolled his hips again and teased the crowd, lifting the hem of his ugly green sweater that had actual, working Christmas lights on it. There were more cheers and whistles as the party got a glimpse of the hard stomach beneath.

“Not jealous?” Jaebum's amused voice said next to him.

Mark laughed, watching Jackson stumble on the soft cushions as he tried a slow turn.

“You know what he's like,” he replied, chuckling as Jackson's hips rolled and his hands found the hem of his sweater again.

Jaebum snorted. “If Jinyoung was doing this—”

Mark burst into laughter as Jackson slowly lifted his sweater higher and higher, his hips rolling, body swaying. His whole torso was exposed now, showing off the hard lines and muscle of his chest and stomach. He tugged, trying to pull the sweater over his head but it remained comically stuck.

“Jinyoung won't even take his shirt off at the beach,” he laughed, still watching Jackson.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jaebum turn to look at him.

“You get off on this don't you?” he laughed in disbelief.

Mark grinned as Jackson staggered to the end of the couch, barely managing to keep from toppling over as he struggled with the sweater.

“Maybe a little.”

At last, Jackson freed himself and spread his arms wide to receive the cheers from his audience, smiling as if it he had planned the whole thing. His hair was sticking up in all directions and his face lit up in laughter as he pretended to be embarrassed by his half-naked state. He crossed his arms over his exposed chest in feigned modesty and let out a high-pitched shout as he stumbled ungracefully from the couch and hurried over.

Mark watched him approach, heart swelling in affection. Sure, there was part of him that wanted to bundle Jackson up so no one but him could see his tanned skin and hard, defined muscle, but the other part—the part that loved every side of Jackson—enjoyed watching him like this. Carefree and soaking in attention that made him shine so brilliantly.

“MARK!” Jackson shouted before launching into his arms, sending them both stumbling backwards a few steps. Jaebum had to step back just to avoid being caught in the collision. “Mark! My Mark! My Markachu~” he giggled, latching onto Mark's neck.

Chuckling, Mark held onto him like being in his arms was Jackson's natural place to be. He smiled fondly at him. Whenever he thought he couldn't love Jackson more than he already did, Jackson proved him wrong.

“Hi Jackson.”

“Did you like my performance?” Jackson asked, his eyes wide and cute.

Mark's grin widened. “Very sexy.”

Behind Jackson, Jaebum rolled his eyes and left them alone.

Reluctantly extracting Jackson from his arms, Mark grabbed the Christmas sweater and helped him back into it. Then leaned forward with a playful smirk.

“Want to give me a private show later?”

Jackson stared at him, then grinned back. Leaning closer so his breath played against Mark's ear when he whispered.

“Why wait until later?”


	11. Jinyoung/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… you wanna hot chocolate and chill?”  
> “If you ask me that one more time, I will dump hot chocolate on you.”  
> Pairing: Jinbam

“So… you wanna _hot chocolate and chill_?”

“If you ask me that one more time, I will dump hot chocolate on you.”

Bambam's lecherous grin only widened. “Would you lick it off me?”

Jinyoung glared at him. He knew he would regret agreeing to let Bambam “cook Christmas Eve dinner” rather than just going out like everyone else. But he had fixed Jinyoung with that stupid pout and wide-eyed stare that somehow still made him weak even after years of being victimized by it.

And now he was sitting on Bambam’s couch after dinner with the lights dimmed low and Bambam straddling his lap with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Jinyoung hadn't _meant_ to, but his hands ran up his jean-clad thighs despite his weak attempts to be annoyed at Bambam's brazen attitude

After all, it was part of the reason he fell in love in the first place. The disregard for hierarchy and unabashed desire for the things he wanted. Like Jinyoung, for instance.

He still remembered the confidence and surety in which Bambam had confessed to him. The defiant glare and challenge in his voice when Jinyoung tried to tell him that relationships were rife with uncertainty and they had so much more to lose if things went wrong.

Bambam had shut him up by kissing him. And Jinyoung hadn't been able to look back since. Hadn't wanted to. Bambam's certainty and confidence in them had been infectious and Jinyoung found himself never regretting the risk.

Above him, Bambam sighed.

He smiled. “What?”

Bambam raised an eyebrow at him. “You're doing that deep thought thing again.”

Snorting, Jinyoung leaned forward and kissed him gently, coaxing his mouth open. He loved when they kissed like this—unhurried and slow like they had an infinite number of hours and days and years to stay just like this.

“So?” Bambam broke away and grinned. “Hot chocolate?”

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung wrapped his arms around his waist and flipped him onto his back. He leaned down, their lips close enough to brush when he spoke.

“Why don't we skip to the _chill_ part?”

He watched Bambam's lips curve into a smirk. “Gladly.”


	12. Jaebum/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was having a snowball fight outside and you were casually walking by and oh my god I am so sorry I accidentally nailed you in the face.”  
> Pairing: BBam

“Hey watch—!”

Too late. Bambam cringed and ducked quickly behind one of the many snow-covered cars parked on the side of the street where he and about thirty others were engaged in a still growing snowball fight. The guy—from the casual way he had been walking through their battlefield—was just a passerby. And Bambam had nailed him right in the face.

He watched apprehensively as the guy staggered back with a startled shout. _Oh God_ , Bambam ducked further behind the car and peered over the hood. He was hot.

Not in that _warm-and-approachable_ and _hey-let’s-go-have-hot-chocolate-even-though-you-beaned-me-in-the-face-with-a-snowball_ way. He had a black beanie, sharp, narrow eyes, and a drop dead gorgeous _I-will-shove-your-face-in-the-snow-and-make-you-eat-it_ kind of hotness. Bambam imagined his voice low and dangerous as he spoke, asking what idiot had thrown a snowball at his flawlessly perfect face. His knees went weak just thinking about it.

He watched as the guy shook his head and brushed his face off, looking a bit dazed, as if unsure of what happened.

Swallowing, Bambam slowly stood. The battle was still raging around him, and as Youngjae lobbed another snowball by his ear at Mark, Bambam ducked and rushed over to his own casualty of war, nearly crashing into him.

The guy stepped back and looked down at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and shock. Bambam’s cheeks burned red.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you! Are you ok?” his words stumbled over each other in his haste to apologize. “I was aiming for Jeongguk and then I didn’t see you and I’m so sorry I—!”

Another snowball—this time from Yugyeom—sailed over him and hit the guy on top of his head. Bambam’s eyes widened when his head jerked upon impact. He was so going to die.

Sighing, the guy batted the snow off his beanie and shook his head, looking a bit irritated. “It’s fine,” he muttered.

Another snowball hurled over their heads, but this time they both had the sense to duck. A low, deep chuckle made Bambam look up from where they had crouched to the ground.

 _Oh_.

_Wow._

He had a beautiful smile.

“Your friends?” he asked.

Bambam nodded as they stood. “Yeah...we put the word out on SNS about a snowball fight and—” he gestured around the chaos, “it got a little out of hand.”

They dodged another snowball and the guy chuckled again. “I see that.”

“COME ON BAM! ARE YOU GONNA FIGHT OR FLIRT?” Yugyeom shouted from across the street. In the precious few seconds he emerged from his hiding spot to shout at him, Mark nailed the side of his head with a snowball.

Cheeks flaring red, Bambam scooped up a snowball of his own and threw it at his best friend. It fell embarrassingly short.

Behind him, he heard hot beanie guy laughing. He spun around.

“I wasn’t—!” he said sputtered, “I mean— I— you— I-just-wanted-to-apologize-for-hitting-you!” again the words tumbled over each other as if they were just a single, very long word which only made the guy laugh harder.

He felt his cheeks burning and wished this guy _would_ just shove his face into the snow so he could at least hide and pretend he wasn’t making a complete ass of himself.

“It’s ok—” the guy was grinning, eyes turned up into two perfect crescent moons. “I’m Jaebum.”

Bambam blinked. “I— uh— Bambam.”

Grin widening, he watched Jaebum crouch and scoop up a handful of snow.

 _Oh god_ , his eyes widened, _this was it._ Jaebum was going to smash snow into his face. He closed his eyes, readying himself for the impact.

Instead, he felt Jaebum’s hand land gently on top of his head and ruffled his now snow covered hair. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the same, crescent moon smile.

“Payback,” he said, scooping up another handful of snow. “So—” he eyed the battle around them. “Whose team are you on?”

Bambam stared at him, some of the snow Jaebum had smashed into his hair dropped onto his shoulder. A slow grin slid onto his lips.

“See the guy in the bright red coat? That’s Mark. He’s not on our team.”

Grin widening, Jaebum drew his arm back and pitched the snowball. It went way wide and fell short.

“Ah—” his mouth dropped open in shock.

Bambam collapsed into giggles. He was hot _and_ cute.

Jaebum looked at him and grinned sheepishly. “Maybe I should just watch.”

“There’s a cafe just down the street—” Bambam pointed to where they could see the sign of the small shop. He flushed again. “If you...want to go...uh...together…I’ll buy you a hot chocolate...to make up for hitting you in the face.”

He watched nervously as Jaebum’s smile widened. “I’d like that.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Yugyeom’s enraged voice shouted from behind them, but Bambam ignored him.

After all, he _had_ hit Jaebum in the face with a snowball. Hot chocolate was the least he could do.


	13. Jaebum/Yugyeom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is my first time at the ice rink and I've fallen on my butt at least 34 times so far but you keep skating around me like a fuckng pro.”  
> Pairing: BGyeom

_Oh no no no not again—_

_THUMP!_

No matter how much Jaebum’s arms flailed, it was no use. His feet slipped from under him and he _once again_ landed rather ungracefully on the ice. He had fallen so many times he had learned how to at least fall to lessen the impact as much as possible. Not that it mattered. He still ended up sitting on the ice with his legs splayed out in front of him. He glared at the eight-year-old that zoomed by him, giggling as she quickly and easily pivoted on her right foot and gilded backwards.

An amused cackle behind him brought a scowl to his lips. He tilted his head back to see the reason he was here in the first place. Even upside down, Kim Yugyeom’s pretty face still made him momentarily forget his ire. The younger man grinned down at him.

“Careful,” he teased, “the ice is slippery.”

Jaebum looked away, grumbling as he struggled to stand. “You are such an ass.”

He slipped again, his legs doing an awkward split as he went tumbling down.

Yugyeom doubled over in laughter. “At least I’m not _on_ my ass.”

Glaring up at him, Jaebum did his best to look as intimidating as he could while splayed out on his back while actual five-year-olds proved to be more coordinated than him. “I told you I’ve never skated before.”

Still chuckling, Yugyeom held out his hand. Jaebum narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Come on,” Yugyeom's grin widened. “I’ll teach you.”

“That’s what you said _twenty minutes ago_ and you ditched me to skate around like you’re trying to win gold at the Olympics,” he grumbled, sitting up and turning to accept Yugyeom’s hand.

Yugyeom hauled him up with ease and tugged a bit more so Jaebum stumbled forward into him. Heat flared across his face. Yugyeom was nearly a head taller than him and had a broad, steady chest that vibrated when he spoke.

“I was just skating, _hyung_.”

“You lapped me like five times,” he muttered.

“You skate slower than a six-year-old.”

Jaebum glared up at him. “I’ve never skated before!”

He tried shoving Yugyeom away, but he caught his arm and clasped Jaebum’s hand in his. “I promise I won’t ditch you this time.”

Jaebum was three years older than Yugyeom, but it was moments like these he felt like their roles were reversed. He scoffed and pretended he wasn’t enjoying the feel of Yugyeom’s warm hand in his.

Grinning, Yugyeom slowly started skating, gently guiding Jaebum along as he put one wobbly foot in front of the other.

Maybe skating wasn’t _so_ bad, he thought. Right before he fell again.


	14. Mark/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We're at a Christmas party and our friends got drunk and started going on about how cute we would be together.”  
> Pairing: Markjae

As if big, noisy parties weren’t bad enough when all Mark wanted to do was pilfer some free food and go home to squeeze in a few hours of gaming before bed, being surrounded by his dumbass friends when they were piss drunk was invariably worse. Especially when he was the “designated driver.”

He didn’t know what was worse—watching Jackson hang all over Jaebum, or listening to Jinyoung drunkenly go on about how everyone just _loves_ Iron Man and Captain America but where the hell was the appreciation for Dr. Strange?

Yeah.

Mark loved his friends.

Just not when they were dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters and drinking eggnog that was increasingly becoming just rum. He looked down at the red monstrosity Jackson had forced him to buy—it had the image of a poorly knitted snow monster striking a pose with a snowflake print and the words “I’M SEXY AND I SNOW IT.”

He sighed, thinking about all the better things he could have spent $30 on. Like a new keyboard. Or some fucking food. Or maybe an Uber so he could get his own glass of rum and not have to drive Jackson’s drunk ass home.

“You look cheerful,” Youngjae’s amused voice made him look up just as the younger man dropped next to him on the couch he had been brooding on.

“You try being the only sober one in a room full of drunks,” he muttered back.

Youngjae grinned and took a sizeable swig of his own drink in response.

They sat next to each other, as was usual with Mark, there was very little conversation. Instead he and Youngjae simply watched the rest of the party goers, every once and a while commenting on who was going to end up going home with who. Though more often than not, Mark simply stole glances at Youngjae.

They hadn’t known each other long, but since Jaebum introduced him to their usually tight-knit group just months ago, it was as if he had always been there. He stole another glance, this time unable to tear his gaze away.

Youngjae’s cheeks were flushed pink from the alcohol, his eyes glistening in amusement as he watched Jackson trying to drag a reluctant Jaebum under the mistletoe. Mark’s eyes traced along his cheekbones and across his jaw before finally landing on his lips, chapped and spread in a small smile.

As if feeling his gaze, Youngjae turned to look at him. His head tilted curiously. “What?”

Heat rose up the back of his neck and he knew the tips of his ears were probably bright red. Hoping Youngjae didn’t notice, he stammered out a quick, “N-nothing,” before returning his attention back to Jackson and Jaebum, who were now staggering their way over to the couch.

 _“Ooohh!”_ Jackson squealed excitedly, his mouth split open in a wide smile. “What is this I see?” he giggled, “Youngjae-yah!”

Chuckling, Youngjae greeted him and even tapped their plastic cups together in a somewhat uncoordinated toast as Jackson spilled some of his own drink onto the floor.

“So—” Jackson threw himself down on the love seat next to the couch and dragged Jaebum down with him. “You two look cozy.”

He flashed them a wicked grin and it was only now that Mark realized Youngjae _was_ sitting quite close. He shifted uncomfortably but not away. Youngjae on the other hand settled further into the back of the couch so their arms pressed together. Mark really hoped Jackson didn’t notice the pink that spread across his cheeks. Though, from the curious tilt of Jaebum’s head, it looked like at least _he_ noticed.

Just as Mark was about to _totally and completely_ change the subject, Jinyoung dropped next to him. And now he was trapped.

“Idiots,” he grumbled under his breath. “Doctor Strange can _move time and space_ but all they care about is the guy with a shield made of metal that— _by the way—_ was _stolen_ from Wakanda.”

Mark rolled his eyes as Youngjae cackled next to him. Drawn by the sound, Jinyoung looked around Mark and frowned.

“Why are you two so close?” his eyes widened comically. “Don’t tell me _you two_ hooked up too?” he groaned and threw his head back against the couch with his eyes closed. “It’s bad enough Jaebum finally caved to Jackson—”

“ _Excuse you!”_ Jackson squawked indignantly.

Now Mark was sure no matter _how_ drunk his friends were, there was no missing his red face. Worse, he made the mistake of glancing at Youngjae, who was just...looking at him. He quickly looked away.

“We didn’t _hook up_ ,” he said irritably. “How much have you had to drink?”

Jinyoung’s eyes opened and he frowned at the ceiling. After a long pause he finally turned his head to Mark. “Lost count an hour ago.”

He sighed dramatically again. “Everyone has a boyfriend except Jinyoung.”

“We aren’t—!”

“ _Oohh_ —!”

 _Great,_ Mark scowled as Yugyeom and Bambam appeared, each with drinks in their hands, looking as though the only reason they were both still standing was because they had their arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Mark- _hyung_ and Youngjae hooked up?” Yugyeom said, staggered a bit to his right.

“We haven’t—!”

“Not _yet_ ,” Jackson interrupted unhelpfully. Mark glared at him. He returned the dirty look with a cheerful smile. “What? You two _would_ look quite cute together.”

This was really not a conversation Mark wanted to have. Not sober. Not drunk. Not ever.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Youngjae gave a shaky laugh that made Mark look at him. He looked just as uncomfortable as he was. “We’re just friends.”

“For now,” Bambam smirked and wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “But who knows what will happen with just a little Christmas spirit and some mistletoe.”

Mark glanced at Youngjae, which turned out to be a mistake. Their eyes met and he saw red flush across Youngjae’s cheeks. Screw the whole designated driver thing. He needed a drink.

Standing, he brushed by Bambam and Yugyeom, ignoring their cackles that followed him into the kitchen. He grabbed a near-empty rum bottle and poured the remaining contents into a glass, adding just enough eggnog to take away some of the burn.

“You know—” he jumped at the sound of Youngjae’s voice “—standing under a mistletoe is a really bad way _not_ to prove them right.”

Mark looked up. _Who the fuck puts mistletoe over the booze table_.

He looked back at Youngjae, who walked closer so they were now toe-to-toe. Grinning, he place a quick kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Merry Christmas, _hyung_.”


	15. Jackson/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I get caught with one of my friends under the mistletoe and you literally sprint from across the room to shove them out of the way and take their spot.”  
> Pairing: Jackjae

Youngjae’s eyes met Yugyeom’s. They both stared at each other, wide-eyed and embarrassed as their friends laughed and drunkenly started catcalling. After carefully avoiding the mistletoe someone had hung in the middle of the room all night, Youngjae had finally gotten caught under it.

And it was with Yugyeom, who was looking just as lost and reluctant as him to oblige the chants of _“kiss, kiss, kiss!”_

“What do we do?” Yugyeom hissed.

Youngjae was just about to simply step back—no one could _force_ them to kiss—when there was a commotion behind Yugyeom. He glanced over the taller man’s shoulder to see Jackson stumble-running from across the room.

Amused, Yugyeom let Jackson shove him out of the way. Youngjae’s eyes widened as he fought back a laugh of his own.

“Choi Youngjae,” he said breathlessly, despite the sprint being short. Youngjae imagined he was just doing it for dramatic effect. “How dare you get caught under the mistletoe with someone else!”

Laughing, Youngjae grinned him. Their small audience was watching them. Only their closest friends—Yugyeom among them—knew he and Jackson were together. The attention made him flush in embarrassment, but he still felt affection swell up inside him.

“I didn’t do it on _purpose._ ”

Scowling, Jackson reached out to curl his fingers through the front of Youngjae’s ugly green sweater. He let Jackson pull him forward until their lips pressed together. He grinned against Jackson’s lips and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, letting Jackson kiss him thoroughly.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought alcohol was truly an amazing thing. He was still acutely aware of their audience—now whistling and cheering—but the rum and wine throughout the evening made them fade into unimportance. All that mattered was Jackson, solid and real under his hands.

When they parted, Youngjae grinned. “Should I get caught with Jaebum- _hyung_ next?”

Jackson scowled. “Don’t you _dare_.”


	16. Mark/Yugyeom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All the shops are closed and its cold and we don't know each other but we both happened to want to see the Christmas lights.”  
> Pairing: Markgyeom
> 
> (Temperature done in Fahrenheit.)

In LA, Mark never knew what it was like to have a white Christmas. He didn’t even get the luxury of _wishing_ for one. Not when it was 75 degrees and sunny almost year around. Since moving to Seoul, he started wishing for it every year. And finally, after three years, he would see snow blanketing the ground and trees on Christmas morning.

He glanced up at the sky, watching as the thick flakes fell lazily to the ground under the warm yellow lights of the small street in Seoul. All of the shops were closed, but it didn’t matter, the couples and families around him were there for the same reason—to see the Christmas lights.

A small part of him that often ached at this time of year, felt lonely. He had no lover to spend the holiday with, and his family was an ocean away. He snapped a quick photo, capturing the crowded street, and sent it to his sister, who loved snow almost as much as he did.

Pocketing his phone, he continued strolling. Despite the closed shops, the street was well known for its elaborate decorations. He gazed around, taking in the white lights and reindeer and snow-covered garland. Even with the crowd, there was a sense of peace that washed over him.

He passed a small cart selling hot chocolate and saw one customer—tall and maybe a little younger—rifling through his pockets. Slowing, he overheard him whine softly, “I should have brought more cash.”

Hesitating, Mark sighed quietly and stopped at the vendor, pulling out his wallet. It was Christmas, after all.

“Two hot chocolates, please,” he ordered.

The tall guy stared at him like he wasn’t sure if he should be indignant that Mark had cut in front of him, confused because he was now handing over the freshly poured hot chocolate, or simply grateful he was being treated to a free drink.

Mark smiled a bit. _Cute._

“Merry Christmas,” he said, starting to walk again, keeping his pace slow so they guy could decide to follow him or go on his own way.

He felt a small jolt of happiness when he followed. “Um...thanks…”

Mark shrugged and sipped his hot chocolate.

“Are you here alone?” he asked

Mark hummed in response. “No one else wanted to come.”

The guy sighed. “All of my friends are out with their girlfriends.”

Smiling at the sulky tone, Mark replied. “Mine don’t like the cold—” he paused, thinking of Jaebum’s depressingly undecorated apartment “—or Christmas.”

The guys gasped. “Who doesn’t like _Christmas?”_

Mark chuckled. “I guess they just don’t see the point in freezing your ass off to see a bunch of lights.”

They walked a bit further. There had been no spoken agreement or confirmation, but it seemed as if they had decided that if none of their friends wanted to see the lights with them, then they could at least see them with _someone_. As peaceful as it had been alone, Mark was grateful for the company.

They continued to chat, commenting on the couples and their matching jackets, scarves, and hats. Mark still didn’t know his name but it didn’t seem to matter. Conversation was easy and Mark found himself more interested in listening to the guy talk about his dance classes in university anyway. He even showed Mark a few steps before slipping and barely catching himself on his shoulders.

He laughed, cheeks flushed a pretty pink from the cold. Mark’s eye caught the beauty mark just below his right eye before he straightened and continued walking.

“Ah—” the guy spoke up again, as if just remembering something. He grinned at Mark who looked back curiously. “I’m Yugyeom, by the way!”

Smiling, he replied. “Mark.”

He watched as Yugyeom’s mouth turned into a thoughtful frown. “I knew I heard an accent…”

“I’m from LA.”

Yugyeom broke into another smile and Mark felt his heart leap in his chest at the child-like excitement. “Whoa! Really?” he groaned enviously. “I’ve always wanted to go!"

  
He imagined Yugyeom dressed down in board shorts and strolling down Venice Beach instead of bundled in a thick coat and scarf. It was probably too soon to say _‘I’ll take you one day,’_ but Mark found himself wanting to.


	17. Jinyoung/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Person a seduces person B into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (“Oh look how did that mistletoe get right there?”)  
> Pairing: 2Young
> 
>  

_"Hyung_ are you ready yet we’re going to be—”

Youngjae froze just inside Jinyoung’s bedroom door. His breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. Jinyoung, in front of his full-length mirror, dressed in a suit custom fit to hug every curve of his body and accentuate every angle of his frame. Youngjae had seen Jinyoung in countless suits over the years, but the sight always left him breathless.

Slowly, almost deliberately, Jinyoung turned, his hair styled back so only a few strands fell purposely in front of his face, makeup done just enough to cover the few flaws on his skin…

Youngjae swallowed.

“Jaebum- _hyung_ said we’ve got to hurry…”

Jinyoung responded with a careless hum and returned to fixing himself in the mirror. He tugged a few times on his tie, then glanced at Youngjae through the mirror. He hadn’t moved from his spot.

“Youngjae- _yah,”_ his gentle voice seemed to caress against his skin.

Youngjae tensed. He was familiar with that voice. It was the same sultry tone Jinyoung often used when he wanted something—specifically something from Youngjae. He narrowed his eyes.

“We don’t have time, _hyung_ ,” he said the word with force. “Everyone is downstairs waiting.”

Jinyoung tilted his head, feigning innocence and ignorance—of which he was neither.

“I just wanted to ask you to help me with my tie.”

Youngjae glared at him through the mirror. “You know how to tie a tie.”

Jinyoung pouted at him, unrelenting. “This one is difficult.”

Sighing, Youngjae stepped forward. He was _so_ going to hear it from their managers if they were late. Jinyoung turned to face him with a triumphant smile—the kind cats might give after catching a rather fat mouse.

Keeping a reasonable distance between them, Youngjae reached out to adjust the crooked tie He kept his eyes firmly fixated on the knot, despite feeling Jinyoung’s eyes on him. It was with tremendous effort that he stepped back.

“Ready—”

Jinyoung took a step forward, so close and into his space that Youngjae had to step back to keep them from bumping into each other. “Yah— what are you—”

Jinyoung took another step forward. Youngjae took one back. With a pleased smile, Jinyoung took one more and Youngjae nearly stumbled to avoid him. One more step, and Jinyoung reached out to grab his tie before he could put distance between them again.

With another half step forward, there was now only inches between them. Heat flared across Youngjae’s face at their proximity. He only had so much control and Jinyoung was fucking with every strand of it.

 _“Hyung_ serious—”

“Look up, Youngjae- _yah,”_ he said in a sweet sing-song voice.

Glancing up, he saw a sprig of fake mistletoe hanging above his head.

“Wonder how that got there,” Jinyoung chuckled lightly, his voice deceptively innocent again.

He stepped forward again and Youngjae felt the gentle brush of Jinyoung's jacket against his front. His heart leapt to his throat. Jinyoung's breath was warm and so, so inviting. Swallowing, he looked down.

“Why would you put it _there_ of all places?”

A small smile curved the corner of Jinyoung's lips. “Because,” he leaned forward, their lips brushing, “You're the only one allowed in here.”

Youngjae thought he would be used to Jinyoung's kisses by now. Wasn't passion supposed to recede to a low simmer? There but rarely bursting like an out of control flame…

But Youngjae still felt himself getting lost in the soft, gentle way Jinyoung could coax his mouth open and slide their tongues together. Never pushing but guiding Youngjae along. He would drift away just enough to entice Youngjae to follow and capture him in another kiss.

“We’re going to be late,” Jinyoung pulled away again with a grin.

Youngjae scowled playfully. _“Now_ you care.”

Chuckling, Jinyoung leaned in.

They were nearly fifteen minutes late.


	18. Yugyeom/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I work as a bartender and you're here at 3am on Christmas Eve because you got dumped and I really just want to go home but now you're crying and I feel bad.”  
> Pairing: Yugjae

Yugyeom looked at the clock.

3:15am.

Sighing, he turned his gaze to the customer who had walked in at midnight looking as though the Grinch had stolen all of his Christmas gifts. He had spent the last three hours steadily ordering various shots and drinks and scrolling forlornly through his phone. At 2:30, they had their last call. At 3, they ushered all their customers out. Except this guy.

Maybe it was because he looked so miserable. Or maybe it was just because he was cute. Whatever the reason, Yugyeom hadn’t been able to muster his usual _happy-to-throw-you-out-so-I-can-go-home_ attitude. Mark had given Yugyeom a self-suffering look when he tried and failed to gently ask the guy to leave.

He had looked at Mark with big, watery eyes and asked for just _one more_ _shot please_. When Mark refused, Yugyeom had stepped in, feeling sorry for him. Whatever happened, clearly he was having a very bad Christmas Eve. Yugyeom had some sympathy for that. After all, while _his_ friends were making plans with their boyfriends and girlfriends, he was here. With no boyfriend _or_ girlfriend to be angry at him for working on Christmas Eve instead of spending time with them.

“Just until we’re finished cleaning up, ok?” he said kindly.

The guy nodded without looking up from the rather weak rum and ginger. He replied with a soft, “Thanks.”

Mark rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about the guy now being Yugyeom’s problem as he headed to the back to finish closing up.

At 3:30am, the guy was still there—now drinking mostly ginger ale—looking as miserable as he had when he walked in. Mark looked at Yugyeom with a raised eyebrow. A silent, _“well?”_ obvious in his expression.

“I’ve got it,” he said quietly. “Go home.”

Once the bar door closed behind Mark, Yugyeom turned to the customer, who hadn’t even seemed to noticed they were now alone. Sighing, Yugyeom returned to his spot behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of one of their top-shelf bourbons. He poured them each a shot and slid one across to the guy.

He had always deplored the whole “sympathetic bartender” stereotype—the kind that always depicted a bartender with a rag slung over his shoulder or else wiping down the counter as he listened to his customer's woes. Bars were often far too busy to sit and chat with a customer, let alone listen to their life stories.

But this guy looked so miserable, Yugyeom was willing to play the part. Even if it meant sacrificing part of his paycheck for the bourbon.

“So,” he said, downing his own shot and pouring a second. “Why do you look like Christmas was cancelled?”

He watched as the guy looked up, his eyes widening a bit as if just realizing Yugyeom was there. It was almost comical, as if he had simply been expecting to be alone despite being supplied with increasingly weaker drinks throughout the night. Then his face screwed up and his eyes began to water.

 _Oh God,_ Yugyeom thought, in horror. _Please don’t—_

Tears leaked down his face and he began to cry. It wasn’t the kind of cry that often happened when people were in public—struggling for composure and quiet sobs. No. It was the loud, tearful wails only drunk people could accomplish.

“I wish it _was_ cancelled!” he shouted. “WHO BREAKS UP WITH SOMEONE ON CHRISTMAS EVE?”

_Oh._

Now Yugyeom _really_ felt bad. He was also terrible with crying. Should he reach out and pat him on the shoulder? Offer a hug? Yugyeom really didn’t want to have to give some stranger a hug.

He did the only thing he could think of. He pushed the untouched shot glass closer.

“That sucks,” he said, “have a drink.”

The guy snorted back a laugh through his tears. He grabbed the drink and downed it. Yugyeom poured him another.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing again before downing his second. “Sucks.”

Yugyeom finished his second shot and poured them both a third. “Who’s the idiot that dumped you?”

The guy sniffed and sipped his drink. He chuckled wetly and shook his head, wiping his tears, which were still falling. With a shaky, choked breath, he replied, “Doesn’t matter...I’m the one who’s an idiot…”

Yugyeom shrugged. “Well, their loss.”

“You don’t even know me,” the guy smiled, but seemed to cheer up a little.

Shrugging again, Yugyeom replied, “I’m a bartender. Knowing who is or isn’t an idiot is a sixth sense.”

The guy chuckled again, tentative, like he was reluctantly letting go of his bad mood. “Like a super power?”

“Exactly.”

“Well…” the guy finished off his drink and grinned at Yugyeom. His face was still wet with tears, but he at least looked a little less like the world had fallen apart around him. “Thanks for the drink…” he trailed off and squinted at Yugyeom, who grinned.

“Yugyeom.”

The guy’s smile widened. “Yugyeom...I’m Youngjae…” he chuckled. “Not that you need to know.” he glanced around. “Sorry...you must have closed a while ago…”

 _An hour ago_ , Yugyeom thought silently, but he hiked up his own smile, pretending his eyes weren’t burning from tiredness and his muscles didn’t ache from a long shift.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Youngjae looked at him apologetically. “How much is my tab?”

Quickly finishing his third shot, Yugyeom went to the register. He glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to pull out his own card and pay off the somewhat sizeable tab Youngjae had accumulated through the night.

 _It’s Christmas_ , he reasoned, _and he got dumped_. It was the least he could do. Christmas spirit and all.

Returning to the counter, he handed Youngjae his card. “On the house.”

Youngjae’s mouth dropped open in shock. “N-no I can’t—”

“Consider it a Christmas gift from a really tipsy bartender.”

Youngjae looked as if he was going to start crying again. “Thank you.”

Grinning, a somewhat selfish thought came to him. “On one condition.”

Youngjae’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

Yugyeom’s grin widened. He really was cute. Whoever dumped him truly hadn’t understood what they let go. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he unlocked it and held it out for Youngjae to take.

“I don’t have a date for Christmas either,” he said, “Let’s go for coffee. You can pay.”

He watched Youngjae process his words. His surprise slowly melting into a smile and then finally a laugh as he took the phone and punched in his own number.

“Fair enough,” he said.

They grinned at each other as he handed back the phone.

Maybe this Christmas _wouldn’t_ be quite so bad, after all.


	19. Jackson/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s watch stupid Christmas movies and get wasted.”  
> Pairing: Jackbam

“Well,” Jackson sighed and dropped down onto Bambam’s couch. Pudding startled out of his sleep and jumped off the couch, throwing a reproachful look at Jackson before stalking out of the room. “Wanna get drunk?” 

Not that he had to ask. Bambam had already placed two bottles of wine on his coffee table and was in the midst of opening the first.

“Way ahead of you,” he muttered.

Jackson let out a frustrated noise and threw his head back against the couch with a sigh. “Why are we single?”

“Is that a serious question?” 

There was a pop! as Bambam freed the cork from the bottle. He poured them a generous amount in each glass and held his up. 

“Cheers to another single Christmas.”

For years, this had been a tradition of sorts—Jackson and Bambam spending Christmas together because no matter how many girlfriends, boyfriends, or dates they might have had throughout the year, they somehow both always ended up single by the end of it. They could, of course, simply go home—Jackson to Hong Kong and Bambam to Bangkok—but every year they simply stayed in Seoul and got trashed off of wine instead.

They tapped their glasses together and drank.

“So—” Bambam dropped next to Jackson and reached for the remote. “What should we watch first?”

Another part of their tradition was watching Christmas movies until they passed out. 

“The Grinch?” Jackson suggested.

Bambam scrolled through his library until he found it. They settled back as the narration began.

“What I don’t get—” Jackson said as the ending credits rolled and he filled his second glass of wine. “Is why they would even invite him when he literally broke into their houses and stole everything.”

“He brought it all back.”

“People don’t just change that quickly. The Grinch can’t suddenly be all perfect and nice.”

Rolling his eyes, Bambam scrolled through his movie library again. “What next?”

“Muppet Christmas Carol!” 

As before, Bambam selected the movie without argument.

One bottle of wine later, they were beginning Charlie Brown Christmas.

Then Home Alone.

As the night grew later and they finished off both bottles of wine, they turned off the apartment lights so the room was lit only by the soft golden glow of the tree lights and white light of the television screen. If he had been with anyone else, Bambam might have even considered it romantic.

“More wine…” he muttered as the credits for Home Alone scrolled. 

He picked up the two empty wine bottles and staggered his way into the kitchen, bringing back a new one. He carefully avoided King, who slinked past him on the way to his water dish, then tripped on the rug. He fell onto the couch in a fit of giggles. 

Laughing, Jackson reached for the wine bottle and tugged it from his hand. “Maybe we don’t need this one,” he joked, opening it and pouring them each another glass anyway.

Bambam snorted and took a sizable gulp of his drink. “Nonsense.”

They dissolved into giggles again, and settled next to each other, a bit closer than before. It was nice, he thought, having Jackson’s shoulder pressed against his. It felt comforting, stable…

He took another sip of wine before reaching for the remote again. “Next?”

Jackson seemed to think for a moment before turning to him with a grin. “Love Actually!”

As he had been doing all night, Bambam complied without question or argument. The movie started and he shifted just a little closer again so his arm and side pressed against Jackson, who leaned back into him. They laughed throughout the movie, taking turns filling each other’s glasses until yet another bottle was emptied. Bambam’s head felt even heavier now and the screen more out of focus. The laughter bubbled more easy from his throat and his words slurred together. If he talked too quickly he stumbled over them and he and Jackson would simply begin laughing again.

Just as the movie was ending, their chatter and laughter died down. The late hour and three bottles of wine finally taking their toll. A weight on his shoulder made him look down—Jackson was fast asleep. There was a moment—a brief, fleeting thought of how pretty Jackson looked like this. With his face relaxed and soft, devoid of life’s worries or pressures. He felt a strange flutter in his chest.

The strangest part was how unafraid of it he was. Maybe because he knew something had always been there. An underlying knowledge that through all their boyfriends and girlfriends and dates, somehow Jackson had been the one constant in his life.

He slouched further in his seat so Jackson could more comfortably settle against him. He watched the credits to Love Actually scroll and smiled, feeling Jackson’s warm breath against his neck.

Maybe things wouldn’t change between them. Maybe they would always simply remain friends. Even if they did, this was the only way he ever wanted to spend Christmas.


	20. Youngjae/Bambam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Strangers who go snowboarding but get stuck on the chair lift together.”  
> Pairing: Bamjae

Youngjae took a deep breath, watching Mark and Yugyeom hop easily onto the chair lift and flash him a cheerful peace sign as they were carried up the slope. He stepped up nervously. He enjoyed snowboarding but he hated this part.

“Next!” the employee called. 

Another guy moved forward and stood next to Youngjae. He discreetly eyed the expensive looking snow pants and white coat. As if feeling Youngjae's eyes on him, the guy turned and flashed him a grin. His silver-white hair flopped over a black headband and seemed to blend in with the snow.

Youngjae offered him a weak smile and looked forward again, watching the white puff of breath evaporate into the air. He felt the chair lift bump the back of his knees and dropped heavily onto it. The chair swayed under his weight.

He stared ahead, eyes fixed on Mark and Yugyeom's chair in front of him. If he didn't look down, he wouldn't have to see the ground moving further and further away from them—

The lift shuddered. Then stopped. 

He felt his stomach plummet. 

No.

Swallowing, he clenched his fist.

Please start, please start, please start.

The chair swayed as the guy next to him shifted. His heart leapt to his throat in panic. Without thinking, his hand searched for something—anything—to ground him. He caught the sleeve of the guy's coat and gripped it tightly as if it would somehow keep them from falling to their death.

Startled, the guy jumped and stared at Youngjae. Rather than push him off, he tilted his head.

“Hey man—” he waved his hand in front of Youngjae's face. The small movement forward caused the chair to sway again and Youngjae closed his eyes.

“Please don't do that.”

There was a short silence. “Are you...scared?”

Youngjae took a deep breath. “I don't like heights,” he muttered.

There was a soft, “Oh,” in response. Youngjae appreciated that the guy didn’t laugh.

He felt the chair move again as the guy carefully moved to sit back and settle so they were closer together. The solid presence against his side was comforting. Youngjae took another deep breath and opened his eyes.

“I'm Bambam, by the way,” the guy said.

When Youngjae looked at him, he grinned at the somewhat perplexed expression. Bambam was an...interesting name...

“I'm from Thailand.”

“Y-Youngjae,” he replied, still unable to shake off the nerves from being stuck so high up. He swallowed again. “Your Korean is really good.”

He cringed at how awkward he sounded. Bambam's smile widened as if he found him amusing. Or—his heart gave a wild leap—cute.

“I've been here for about four years.”

Talking was good. It was nice. He was beginning to worry less about what would happen if the cord snapped and they plummeted to the ground. Even the cold that had long since numbed his cheeks was a little less unforgiving with Bambam's arm and leg pressed against his.

Bambam, he learned, had come to Korea to train as an idol and instead turned to fashion. He was currently studying design in Seoul and hoped to have his own brand one day. Youngjae told him he was studying psychology and music. Bambam looked genuinely interested when he talked about his dream of being a music therapist. 

Bambam talked about his cats and even tried to pull out his phone to show Youngjae, but immediately stopped when the chair swayed precariously and Youngjae pressed closer to him. He hadn't forgotten they were one wrong move from death.

“Sorry,” he flashed Youngjae a smile, and Youngjae was glad he could blame the flush across his face on the cold.

“It’s—”

The lift jerked and he scrambled to cling onto Bambam's arm again with a distressed moan. Next to him, Bambam was chuckling, though not unkindly, as the lift began to move.

They stayed like that—pressed close together with Youngjae's arm tightly wound around Bambam's until it was time to hop off at the top of the slope.

“Well that was annoying,” Yugyeom complained as he and Mark joined them. He looked curiously at Bambam, who smiled back.

Suddenly embarrassed, Youngjae quickly introduced them, intensely aware of Mark's eyes on him. 

“I guess I'll see you around?” Bambam turned to him a few moments later.

Disappointment dropped into his stomach. “O-oh...yeah...I guess…”

Bambam flashed him a brief smile before dropping his board to the ground and maneuvering towards one of the two trails accessible from the part of the mountain they had stopped on. 

“He’s cute,” Mark commented lightly. Youngjae didn’t need to look at him to know his friend had an annoying, knowing smirk.

“Shut up,” he muttered, before hurrying after Bambam. 

Even if they parted ways at the end of the day, Youngjae could at least get his number...


	21. Jackson/Yugyeom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I couldn't reach the Christmas decorations on the top shelf and you look tall so can you please help me”  
> Pairing: Jackgyeom

Jackson glared up at the last Christmas-themed Squirtle bathroom set that just had to be on the top shelf. They were all there—the soap dispenser, towels, rugs, even a toothbrush holder and cup set. Jackson usually kept his house minimally decorated—a tree, a few gold accent pieces, a wreath, and of course, lights. But the Squirtle set was too cute to ignore.

Unfortunately…

He scowled up at the shelf.

He couldn’t reach.

More than once he glanced around and quickly pretended to be contemplating an ugly elf figure on the shelf in front of him whenever an employee seemed to catch his eye. No, he thought stubbornly every time the thought entered his mind. He would not ask for help. He glared up at the bathroom set. Unfortunately, his fear of heights kept him from climbing the shelf. God damn it.

Swallowing his pride, he returned to his reluctant search for an employee. As he scanned the floor, his eyes landed on a guy who seemed to be bored as he browsed the shelves a little further down the aisle. A stranger was better than an employee, right?

Jackson eyed him up and down, grudgingly appreciative of his long legs and tall, lanky body. His black hair fell carelessly around his ears in a bowl-cut style, and he had pretty pink lips and a prominent nose that still seemed perfectly proportioned for his face. Jackson briefly debated whether him being cute made it better or worse.

He waited a bit as the guy moved further down the aisle towards him, then looked up at the bathroom set again with a sigh. One of the Squirtles on the towels stared back down at him. In his next life, he thought, stepping up on the bottom shelf, he wanted to be seven feet tall. At least. 

He steadied himself and glanced over to the cute tall guy who was just a few feet away. Just as he seemed to look up, Jackson reached for the towels helplessly. Sure, the damsel-in-distress routine was more than a little undignified, but it worked.

“Um…”

Jackson turned and grinned sheepishly, acting as though he hadn’t planned this.

“Oh…” he chuckled. “Hi—” he looked up at the bathroom set. “I’m trying to reach those towels.”

The guy looked up then back at Jackson with a raised eyebrow. “Squirtle?”

Chuckling, Jackson stepped down. What he lacked in height he could at least make up in charm. 

“I know it’s a bit childish…”

Snorting, the guy replied, “Very.”

Jackson tensed. Jackass.

“I have a hyung who loves Pikachu,” he shook his head. “You two should meet.”

“Well…” Jackson turned up the charm again. “If you get those down for me, I’ll treat you to coffee and you can tell me more about this hyung of yours.”

The guy looked at him, as if assessing whether Jackson was worth his time. Finally, he shrugged. “Sure.”

He reached up and easily grabbed the towels (Jackson totally wasn’t jealous). Dropping them into Jackson’s cart, he retrieved the rest on Jackson’s request.

“You really love Squirtle…” he said as they walked together.

Jackson grinned. “He’s cute.” Smile widening, he added, “People say I look like him.”

The guy stopped and looked at Jackson closely, then nodded, smiling a bit. “You do.”

Chuckling, Jackson continued walking. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”

“Yugyeom,” the guy replied.

“So...coffee?”

Yugyeom grinned. “I prefer iced chocolate.”

Jackson blinked and stared at him. Then snorted. “And you said I was childish.”

On Christmas, Yugyeom walked out of his bathroom and shook his head at Jackson, who was waiting by the door. “Those Squirtles are really unnerving.”

“They’re adorable.”

Snorting, Yugyeom followed him out of the apartment. “Maybe if you like being stared at while you’re trying to do your business.”

Rolling his eyes, Jackson grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to the elevator. “Without those Squirtles you wouldn’t have a date tonight.”

Yugyeom grinned and leaned over to press a kiss on his temple. 

“They’re still creepy.”


End file.
